The night was black and there was no moon.
Thick clouds, heavy with the threat of snow, blanketed the sky. They helped to conceal the ethereal form skirting the pools of light the torches beside the doorway threw upon the grounds. The darkness of the over-sized, fur-lined cloak allowed her to blend into the shadowed night. Occasional gaps in the fabric sent a flash of a familiar white dress that interrupted the solid wall of obscurity as she circled around the back towards where Son's window had been. There she paused, mind whirling as she recalled the guilt, the crushing despair that had assailed her ever since that moment. She had abandoned Elliot. She had broken Son's heart. The wildling ducked her head and averted her gaze from the source of regret.
She moved on.
She could not be certain exactly where Elliot's room was located, so she approached a window she knew belonged to the long hallway running alongside the rooms reserved for the wealthier patients. Despite Rhaena's transgressions, Elliot was loved enough to warrant the special attention. A nearby barrel was located and tugged stubbornly into position. The window was gradually wrestled open, ignoring the splinters she earned for her troubles. There was a heart-stopping moment when her toil earned a high-pitched squeal of protest from the stiff window. There was a pause and several silent seconds before she continued, pace harried. Her landing was muffled by the thick cloak as she slipped within and crouched there for another wary moment. Her feet took care where they settled after that. An abandoned candle was plucked from a table and she moved through the halls in search of the wayward boy-Knight.
The veiled visitor paused in each doorway until the fair boy's room was found. Her heart rate sped at the vision he presented, skipping a beat as the warm glow of candlelight fell upon his features. Gently, she settled her meager source of light upon the table and shrugged off her heavy cloak. It was draped over the back of the chair, Cherny's chair, at his bedside. Her backside eased onto the wooden seat and she cleared her throat.
"Elliot?," she called, softly, almost loathe to awaken him. She had to admit, she was dreading the confused lack of recognition that Cherny insisted would not be there. Fingers sought his own, flickering candlelight mirrored in swollen pupils that refused to depart his face. She held her breath captive in her lungs.